And then, I looked at my shit-magnet of a desk, and realized that much work had to be done in order to be ready for tomorrow's visit from the cleaners.
So, somehow, in my wisdom, I pulled out every pattern I've ever printed or photocopied (legally!) and am now matching finished projects to ball bands, and separating things into several piles:
- Queued (must make!)
- Favourited (very appealing)
- I must have been drunk
The bonus is there's now enough room on the magazine shelf for, you know, actual magazines.
And now Scout is washing his bum while he's sitting on the pile. Nice.